


The Proposal

by CleverFangirl



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: After Samaritan, F/F, Fluff, Shaw's gonna propose, jealous Shaw
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-02
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-18 17:42:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4714700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverFangirl/pseuds/CleverFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Root and Shaw have been dating for over a year.  Somehow, Root's become the most important person in Shaw's life.  And Shaw wants to figure out a way to tell her that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

“Get down!” Shaw shouted, grabbing the back of Root’s jacket and pulling them both to the ground as a round of machinegun fire tore into the wall behind them.  The moment their attacker stopped firing, Shaw sprang up and fired off her own weapon, right into his kneecaps.  He went down with a scream, and suddenly the office building was very quiet.  Shaw waited a few seconds, listening for signs of anyone else coming after them, but all she heard were the quiet groans of pain from the other victims of her and Root's weapons that lay bleeding out on the floor.  Nodding in satisfaction, she turned on her earpiece.  “What’s the status boys?  You get our number out of here?”

“I fear that Miss Hanson will have to monitor her heart condition a bit more closely after all that excitement,” came Harold’s terse reply on the other end.  “But so long as she gets help for her habit and stays away from her drug-smuggling friends, she should live a long, healthy life.”

“Only because I managed to get her out of there in one piece,” John added from his line.  “And those drug boys do not like it when you try to take away a hostage of theirs.  But most of them went after you two.  Your decoy plan worked, Root.”

“She knew it would,” Root responded, pulling herself to her feet and dusting herself off.  “ _Just_ like She knew that guy was going to open fire on us.”  She grinned coyly, and leaned a little closer to Shaw. “You know you don’t have to look for excuses to slam me to the floor, Shaw,” she said with a wink.

Harold cleared his throat loudly.  “Please don’t forget that you’re on comms, ladies,” he said almost pleadingly.  About a year ago, Root had moved into Shaw’s apartment--escalating their relationship from casual one night stands to something much closer to dating, though Shaw would never admit to calling it that.  And now that they were officially some sort of “thing” Root had apparently decided to step up her flirting game, and she really didn’t seem to care who was listening.  Harold had probably overheard more said between the two of them than he’d ever wanted to.  Most of the time Shaw was torn between her instinct to ignore Root’s obtuse flirting, and her amusement at how flustered Harold got the moment he started hearing their “bedroom speak” as he’d called it once to John when he thought they couldn’t hear.  

She rolled her eyes and turned off her earpiece (they were done with this mission anyways) before addressing Root.  “Well either the Machine’s getting slow or you’re losing your edge because if I hadn’t pulled you out of the way, you’d have more holes in you than one of Bear’s chew toys.”

“Or maybe She just knew you’d save me,” Root countered sweetly.  "Heroics like that could make a girl swoon.  Pretty soon I’ll be pulling out a ring,” she added with a wink.

Shaw scowled.  This was Root’s latest tactic of getting under her skin.  She’d finally gotten Shaw to admit that Root was her girlfriend (during a mission that involved Root going undercover with a very attractive woman who didn’t even bother to hide her interest in Root and maybe Shaw had burst in suddenly when the bedroom eyes they’d been shooting each other became too much, nearly jeopardizing the mission, but she still didn’t get why Finch thought she’d overreacted) and now Root took every opportunity she could to playfully hint at the idea of marriage, something she knew would make Shaw cringe.  

Shaw couldn’t figure out why, but she hated these comments more than Root’s regular jibes.  “Whatever,” she muttered.  “We're done here. I'll see you at home.”

Root nodded with a grin then froze, listening, and slowly the smile fell. “I'm afraid not, sweetie,” she said sadly. “Relevant number in New Mexico.”

“You need backup?” Shaw asked immediately.

Root smiled but shook her head. “She says I can handle it.  Looks like you get the apartment to yourself for a few days. Try not to make too much of a mess,” she added patronizingly.

Shaw clenched her jaw and snapped, "It's your computer shit that makes the mess. What do you need all that junk for?”

“Oh a little this and that,” Root replied coyly. “It’s nice to have a side project to keep me busy, other than you of course.”  She winked and walked past Shaw, allowing her hand to brush lightly along her girlfriend’s shoulder, “I'll see you around Sameen.”

Shaw glared as she watch Root walk away, then smirked and said in a loud, casual tone, “By the way, on my list of things I want to slam you against, the floor doesn't even make top ten.”

Root froze in midstep in the doorway, completely caught off guard.  Shaw grinned smugly as she brushed past her through the door, using all of her willpower not to turn around to see the astonished look she knew was on Root’s face. Shaw didn't always flirt back at Root, but when she did the effects were always so satisfying.

 

~~~

 

 

Reese and Finch made it back to the subway before Shaw did, of course.  By the time she’d placed her guns back in her locker and given Bear his treat for the day, John was looking ready to leave again.  

“You got somewhere to be, Reese?” Shaw asked, noting the slightly more formal attire John was sporting now.  

John coughed almost uncomfortably, “Yes, actually.  I’ve got a date with Iris.”  

Shaw raised her eyebrows, “A _date_?  Wow.  Look at you go, big boy.  Maybe if you’re lucky, you might even get laid.”  She and Root had never gone on an actual date, something Shaw was incredibly grateful for.  That kind of activity would likely bore her to tears and make her regret agreeing to go with whatever it was she had with Root in the first place.  

Finch raised his eyebrows in shock, but John just smiled.  “Actually, Shaw, I’m going to propose.”

“Propose?” Shaw repeated, astonished.  “Like-”

“Ask her to marry me,” John finished with a grin, pleased at how much he’d managed to surprise her.  “So I hope, that if trouble strikes, you two would be okay to work it out without me.”

Shaw fought down the urge to groan.  As if Root’s jokes about marriage weren’t bad enough.  Now John was _actually_ going to do it?

“You should be safe for the evening, Mr. Reese,” Finch said quickly.  “I doubt we’ll get another number so quickly.  He gave a friendly wave, “Good luck to you.”

John gave a confident smile, “Thanks, I might need it,” before striding off, leaving Shaw and Finch alone in the subway.  

Finch gave Shaw an awkward glance, and she could tell he was trying hard not to remember the words he’d overheard exchanged between herself and Root.  She smirked and reached down to pet Bear.  She should probably be leaving soon, too.  There was nothing keeping her here at the subway, really.  Harold had grown used to working here during their days hiding from Samaritan, but the place had never felt like home to Shaw.  Maybe it had something to do with being forced to hide in the cold tunnels while all of her friends were out risking danger to keep her safe.  

Yeah it was probably that.

Still, she didn’t really want to go back to her apartment either.  Not now that she knew Root wouldn’t be there.  She’d deny it if anyone asked, but Shaw kind of liked the cramped comfort that Root had brought with her into their living space.  Going home now to an empty apartment and a cold beer may sound good to Shaw, but it didn’t quite sound like home anymore.  She frowned, wondering when her definition of the word had changed, when the payphone in the subway wall suddenly started to ring.  

Quickly, Harold jumped to his feet to answer it.  After a moment, he hung up and sat back down at his computer.  Shaw leaned over his shoulder, taking in the name and information of their newest number.  “No rest for the wicked?”  She asked dryly.  

“I’m afraid not,” Finch replied, somewhat terse.  

“Well at least it keeps us on our toes,” She muttered.  She scanned the last known residence of one Randy Truman before grabbing her jacket and her guns and heading for the exit.  Just before she left, Harold called after her, “It looks like Randy’s been involved in some gang related violence before, Miss Shaw.  I’ll be sure to send some backup your way!”

Shaw rolled her eyes, wondering who in their very small group of allies he would choose today.

 

~~~

 

 

“Can you believe this kid thought he could sneak away with seven million?” Detective Fusco shouted at Shaw over the hail of gunfire riddling his squad car that they were currently crouched behind.  “ _Seven million_ ,” he looked at the terrified young man huddled between them.  “You know they’ve got accountants, number checkers, _account trackers_ for that stuff, right?”

“I had a buddy who said he was gonna tweak the numbers!” Randy shouted with the same furious look in his eyes that he’d had ever since Shaw had pulled his gun from his waistband and forbidden him from joining the firefight.  

Shaw shoved the kid’s head down again as she ducked out of the cover of the car and fired off her gun into the kneecaps of one of their attackers.  “Yeah, well it looks like your ‘buddy’ had other priorities,” she snapped.  She debated pulling out a grenade and ending this now, but decided it wasn’t worth the earful Finch would give her for using explosives in a crowded New York alley.  Instead, she waited for their two remaining attackers to stop firing.  She rolled her eyes (dumbasses were reloading at the same time) and popped out of cover again, shooting both of them quickly.  Then she strode over and kicked their guns away from them while they held their legs in agony.  

“Hey not so fast kid!” Fusco shouted, grabbing the back of Randy’s hoodie as he attempted to run away.  “You’re not going anywhere.”

Randy pulled himself out of Fusco’s grip, but stayed put, gesturing towards Shaw standing over his recently incapacitated once fellow gang members, “But they’re down.  I’m good to go.”

“You really think that?” Shaw asked, walking back towards them.  “You think this is everyone your little stunt pissed off?”  She shook her head, “They’re just gonna keep coming back in bigger numbers, kid.”

Randy’s face went pale, “Then what do I do?”

“Don’t worry,” Fusco clapped him on the shoulder.  “I’ve got just the group of people who can help you disappear until you’re ready to testify against your old friends who just tried to kill you.”

“Wha- _Witness Protection_?” Randy stuttered.  “But my girlfriend-”

“I’m sure she’ll manage,” Shaw cut in shortly.  

“But I did all this for her!” Randy shouted.  “We were gonna run away and get married.”

“That’s your own fault,” Shaw snapped.  She looked at Fusco, “You need help getting him back to the station?”

Fusco shook his head and opened the door to his car, “Nah.  I think he’ll calm down pretty quick.  We’ll see what we can do about getting his girl a deal.  If she was involved in this, it might be worth keeping her safe, too.”  That calmed Randy down enough to convince him to get into the car.  Fusco closed the door behind him, but paused before getting into the driver’s seat.  “So where’s tall, dark and manly?” He asked.

Shaw rolled her eyes, “John took the night off.”

Fusco raised his eyebrows, “That’s not like a guy with as big a hero complex as his, not to mention a death wish.”

“Well I guess Iris has helped him with that,” Shaw muttered.  “Apparently he’s proposing.”

“To the shrink?”  Fusco asked, astonished for a second, then he smiled.  “Good for him.  Guy deserves a little happiness after all he’s been through.  You too, Shaw.”

“What?”

“I know Cocoa Puffs is head over heels for you, and you tolerate her, which is more than you’d do for anyone else who acted like her.”  He shrugged, “Wouldn’t surprise me if she popped the question sooner or later.”

“Root and I are _not_ getting married,” Shaw snapped.  She tucked her gun back into her waistband and stormed off.  “Call Harold if you run into trouble.”

 

~~~

 

 

New York City was quiet for the next few days.  Shaw spent her time working out, cleaning her guns, organizing her larger weapons, and trying to ignore Root’s stuff littering the apartment.  She wondered how long Root’s mission would keep her away this time.  Her absences could be as short as two nights, or as long as three months, and there was no way to tell what this one would be.  Shaw told herself that she didn’t care.  She’d lived alone almost all her life, she still couldn’t quite tell how Root had moved in with her in the first place.  Being alone shouldn’t bother her.  She wasn’t bothered.  But maybe she was a little bored...

Shaw would never admit it, but she was relieved to get a call from Harold asking her to meet him and John in the subway to go over their latest number.  Finally an excuse to get out of the apartment, and if she was lucky, shoot some people.  

“Carol Wright,” Harold said, taping her picture up on the board.  “Thirty-five, single, a fairly famous columnist for the New York Times, and our newest number.”

“She looks pretty harmless,” John commented, flipping through the file that Harold had compiled on her.  “Only child, both parents dead, good grades in college, worked her way up to her current position in the Times, no criminal record of any kind.”

“Hey but look at this,” Shaw said, her eyes on the last page of her own copy of the file.  “Says here she’s taken the next a month off of work, citing a _television event_.  What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I was about to explain that,” Harold said, nodding.  “You see, Miss Wright has apparently qualified for a reality tv program called _Strong Bonds_.”

Shaw groaned, “Please tell me you’re kidding.”

“I’m afraid not, Miss Shaw.  Apparently the premise is that a large number of men and women are placed in a mansion together, and given periodic missions during which they form bonds and friendships.  Over time these relationships are tested by more challenging missions, and the viewers vote off the contestant with the lowest relationships.  By the end, theoretically, the winners will be the two with the strongest relationship, which will apparently be interpreted as true love.”

Shaw stared at him, astonished, “That is the most _ridiculous_ way to get a date I’ve ever heard.”

“Didn’t your girlfriend taser you then threaten you with a hot iron?” John asked with a smirk.

“And didn’t you meet _your_ girlfriend because the station thought you were too trigger happy?” Shaw shot back.

“Ah ah.  Not girlfriend anymore,” John held up his left hand to show a gold band around his index finger. “Iris is my fiance.”

Shaw raised her eyebrows, “You’re wearing a ring too?”

John shrugged, “I wanted us to match.”

“That’s disgusting.”

“I think it’s very progressive,” Harold cut in.  “And congratulations, Mr. Reese.  I wish you both the best.  Now, about Miss Wright...”

“Well someone’s got to get on that show, right?” Shaw asked quickly, eager to move the topic away from marriage.  “I mean, she’s going to be locked in a house with what, twenty other people?”

“I think the starting number is around thirty,” Harold replied.  “They eliminate one person a day.”

“So the threat’s gotta come from there, right?”  Shaw asked.

“Only if there’s motivation,” John countered.  “What’s the prize for winning this thing?”

Harold skimmed down a few pages on the website, “Apparently the couple that wins gets to keep the mansion, and receives a million dollars for every year they stay together.”

“So the stronger the relationship, the more money they get,” John reasoned, nodding.  “That does seem like pretty good motivation for taking out some competition.”

Harold nodded, “I agree.  And it does seem like having someone on the inside would make it far easier to talk with Miss Wright.  Maybe she’ll have an idea of who’s after her.  I’m sure I could talk to some people to add a last minute contestant, the only question is who should it be?”

“Well I dunno I mean you all have such charming personalities,” said a fourth voice from the entrance of the subway.  Lionel Fusco strode up to them, smirking.  Clearly he’d arrived earlier but had been waiting for just the right moment to make his presence known.  

“Hello Lionel,” John said calmly.  “Glad you could join us.”

Shaw shot Harold a questioning look.  

“I thought Detective Fusco might have some useful input for this number,” Harold explained quickly.  

“Darn right I do,” Fusco muttered.  “None of you can go on that show.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Shaw snapped.  

Fusco laughed, “Have you three seen yourselves?  Look, this is gonna be the third season of the show.  My kid likes to watch it with his mom, so I’ve seen a few episodes and let me tell you.  None of you would be there for more than two minutes.”  He laughed, “You’ve seen how awful I am with the ladies, and I’d last longer than you.”

“You know I could pick up any girl faster than you could, Fusco,” Shaw snapped.  “Any guy, too.”

Fusco shrugged, “You’re probably right, but this show isn’t about _picking up_ people.  It’s about building relationships.  And you, Shorty, are terrible at dealing with people.”

Shaw scowled, but she really couldn’t argue that point.  

“Wonder Boy here is barely better,” Fusco added, gesturing to John.  “You’re too scary.  I’m impressed you managed to get yourself a girl at all.”  John shrugged, acknowledging his words while Fusco continued, “What you guys need is someone who’s good at reading people.  The winners on this show always make as many friends as they can.  You need someone who can read them _and_ play them.  You need-”

“Someone who hacks people,” Harold finished, his eyes wide.  

Fusco nodded, “Exactly.”

Shaw saw the look that passed between John and Harold and knew exactly what it meant.  “No,” she said quickly.

“But Shaw, she’s perfect,” John started.

“She is the most likely candidate,” Harold agreed.

“You are _not_ sneaking Root on to a _dating show_ ,” Shaw snarled.  Then she stopped, noticing the amused look on John's face.  " _Because_ ," she added quickly, glaring at him.  " She’s on a relevant number right now.  We have no clue when she’ll get back-”

“Hey kids.” The rest of Shaw’s words were cut off by the sound of heels clicking on stone floor as Root entered the subway, smiling like she knew exactly what they were talking about.  “I heard you might need a bit of help.”

 

~~~

 

 

Shaw pulled her jacket tightly around her as she walked through the streets of an upscale New York suburb.  It was definitely Autumn weather, with chilly biting winds that could cut through almost all fabrics, and she didn’t like it one bit.  She liked it about as much as she liked the fancy mansion in front of her, the mansion packed with people pandering to each other and to cameras, the mansion that Root had been locked inside of for over a week by now.  

Shaw hated that mansion.  

She also greatly disliked the smaller (but still pretty big) house at the end of the block.  Harold had bought the house for them to use as a base for this number, so they’d be close enough to provide Root with backup if she needed it.  Shaw entered the house and made her way through it to what should have been the dining room, but had been transformed for their purposes into the surveillance Room.  

When she’d first arrived at the house, Root had made quick work of patching the team a feed from all the cameras for the show.  It was those feeds that John was currently watching on several screens.  Shaw pulled up a chair next to him.  “Anything new?”

John shook his head, “Today’s challenge was a game of chicken fight in the pool.  Mason threw a fit so everyone knows he’s going home tonight.  Root and Carol actually did pretty well, or I should say, _Samantha_ and Carol,” he corrected himself with Root’s cover name.  

“Of course they did,” Shaw muttered.  Root had made quick work of befriending their number. Really, she’d endeared herself to everyone.  But she’d focused almost especially on Carol.  The idea was for them to stay close so Root could assess any threats to her.  

This plan had the unforeseen side effect of making Carol and Root one of the most popular teams on the show.  Shaw was scrolling through In a Crowd’s website, reading the recap of last night’s episode, when she noticed all the comments from viewers.

_Carol and Samantha are so cute! <3_

_Samrol for the win!!!!!_

_Look at how they hugged even after they lost!! They’re so amazing and supportive of each other! I want them to get married!!!_

“Married?” Shaw repeated, aghast.  “They’ve known each other for a week!”

“Didn’t you know, Shaw?” John asked teasingly.  “Love grows faster on tv.”  

Shaw punched him in the arm.  

“I’d stop reading those comments there if I were you,” John warned, as one of their monitors switched to a closeup on Carol.  “The ones down lower are way less PG.”

Shaw slammed the laptop shut so fast she wouldn’t be surprised if she’d shattered its screen.  Instead she focused on Carol’s interview, but quickly found that to be annoying, too.  

“Samantha?” Carol asked, in response to whatever question had been asked of her.  She smiled, “She’s a sweetheart, I love her.  She’s definitely the best friend I’ve made here so far, and well... have you seen her _legs_? A girl could fall for a sweetheart with legs like that.”  

“Careful Shaw,” John said, not taking his eyes from the monitors.  “You’re going to break your chair.”  

Shaw looked down to see that she was indeed holding onto the arm of her chair very tightly.  So tightly that a few cracks might be visible in it.  “ _That’s_ the best thing she can think of?” She spat.  “Her legs?”  Shaw could think of fifteen reasons why Root was amazing off the top of her head (and yes, her legs _were_ on that list, but lower, like number ten.  At very least her ability to dual wield guns ranked higher than her legs) and what right did Carol have to talk about Root like that at all?

“Shaw,” John said warningly.  

Shaw was about ready to punch the teasing out of John completely when she realized that he wasn’t teasing.  He was looking concerned.  Her eyes flicked to the screen he was watching.  It was one of the security cameras in the mansion, not linked to the show’s feed unless something interesting happened on there.  

And something interesting was definitely happening.  One of the contestants, Shaw was pretty sure her name was Mary, was sneaking into Carol’s room.  She looked like she was carrying an aerosol can with her.  Shaw reached for her gun, “What do you bet that’s not air freshener?”

“I’m not gonna take that bet,” John said evenly.  

As they continued watching, Root suddenly appeared at Carol’s door, looking surprised to find Mary there instead.  Shaw suddenly really wished that these security cameras were equipped with microphones.  The angle wasn’t good for reading either woman’s lips, but she could tell that Root was asking what was going on.  She stood, “Root needs backup, I’m going.”  

John held up his hand, “Just wait a second.”

Someone Root said apparently aggravated Mary, who suddenly ran at Root, aiming a fist at the taller woman’s face.   Root dodged the punch easily and with a few quick punches and kicks (that Shaw recognized somewhat proudly as moves she’d taught Root herself) had incapacitated her attacker.  She picked up Mary’s canister, looked right up at the camera, and winked.  Then suddenly the camera cut out completely.  

Shaw sighed, sitting back down.  “I guess we have the Machine to thank for that exit.”

“Probably,” John agreed.  “On the bright side, it looks like Mary was the threat to Carol, so our number’s safe now.”

“Good,” Shaw muttered.  “She’s spent way too much time in that stupid mansion already.”

John smirked, but didn’t say anything.

They sat there in silence, until finally Shaw blurted out, “So how did you do it?”

“Do what?” John asked her, surprised.

“How did you... propose?” Shaw had to force the word out.

John definitely looked like he was suppressing a smile.  But he stopped and thought for a while before saying, “I took her to Le Bernardin.”

“The french seafood place?” Shaw asked.  “You hate that restaurant.”

“Yeah, but it’s her favorite,” John said.  “And I made sure that that night was all about her.  So I took her there, then we went to go see her favorite musical.  And after, we were walking through the park, and in the exact spot where I first told her I loved her, I knelt down and pulled out her ring.”

Shaw looked at him for a whole minute before saying, “That’s disgustingly romantic, Reese.  You’re gonna make me sick.”

John just grinned somewhat knowingly, “Hey you asked me.”

“And I regret it now completely,” Shaw mumbled, wondering why the hell she _had_ asked in the first place.  She shook her head, turning her attention back to the screens.  All of the security camera feeds had been cut off, and in the background on the live cameras she could see tech people scurrying around the mansion trying to get them back up and running.  Root was nowhere on-screen however, and Shaw didn’t know whether she was thankful or annoyed.  

John was looking at the cameras feeds, too.  “I’ll talk to Harold about getting that footage erased.  No need to have Root’s fighting ability being broadcast all over the country.”

“No need to worry about that, John,” Root said suddenly from behind them, having entered the house without either of them noticing.  “Though I appreciate the thought, She’s already taken care of it.” She set down the cannister she’d taken from Mary.  “Nasty mix in there.  She’s not completely sure but She thinks it’s a mix of compressed cyanide and Mercury.  Leave that in Carol’s room for a while, and just breathing would kill her.  Quite an effective way to take out your ex from high school, though.”  

“Well you sure made it out of there quick,” Shaw commented coolly.  

Root smiled and gave Shaw a quick peck on the cheek, “Good to see you too, sweetie.  And Samantha Hill has come down with a _horrible_ case of the flu and needed to leave the show early.”

“Much to the disappointment of your adoring fans,” John commented.  

Shaw kicked him under the table, but he kept smiling.  

Root looked between the two of them, somewhat bemused, then shrugged.  “Well, I’ve got to run, kids.  Harry doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to need my help with his own number.  I’ll see you at home, Shaw,” she added with a little wave before turning and leaving.  

 

~~~

 

 

Shaw had trouble sleeping that night.  She kept tossing and turning.  She couldn’t stop thinking.  She hated thinking.  But she couldn’t silence the voice in the back of her mind, and the way it kept talking about Root.  She punched her pillow, wishing everything in her head would just _shut up_.

“Shaw?”  Root’s voice was quiet and concerned next to her.  

Shaw bit her lip.  Of course she’d woken Root.  She sighed and flipped over so that she was face to face with her girlfriend.  Root’s hair was mussed and her eyes were sleepy, but the concern and care in her eyes sent a bolt of lightning down Shaw’s spine.  Her voice was raspy with sleep as she asked, “Are you okay, sweetie?”

Shaw wanted to say something, she _needed_ to say it, but all she could get out was, “Marry...”

Root sat up a little, tilting her head.  “Mary?  What about her?”

“Marry” _ME_ , Shaw tried to say.   _Marry me.  You’re the only person I’ve ever thought of as home, and you deserve so much more than what I can give you but I just want to make you happy so please marry me._ But the words were stuck in her throat.  She couldn’t.  Not like this.  Root deserved better.  So she coughed and said instead, “Where do you think Mary got her hands on that cyanide?”

Root was quiet for a moment, no doubt listening to the answer that the Machine was reciting into her head.  Then she replied, “Apparently the lab she was working at was using low quantities of it for their experiments.  She went in and stole small amounts of it for a few weeks when she found out Carol was going to be on the same show as her.”  Then she smirked, and leaned a little closer, “Why?  Did her plan give you some ideas?”

Shaw brushed aside the playful tone of her words and said as idly as she could, “It might be useful to have a stockpile of the stuff somewhere, I was just wondering.”

“Don’t let Harry hear you talking like that.  You know how he feels about poisons,” Root warned with a wink.  “But maybe I can look into finding some less lethal toys for you to play with.”  She yawned and scooched closer to Shaw, flipping over to her other side and pressing her back against Shaw’s chest.  If she was surprised that Shaw didn’t protest, she didn’t show it.  Instead the two just lay there together, Shaw listening to Root’s breathing as she fell asleep, and wondering how the hell she’d ever think of something perfect enough to make Root agree to marry her.  

 

 

~~~

 

A chilly Autumn breeze coming in through an open window woke Shaw the next morning.  She groaned and pulled the blankets more tightly around herself, only to find that she was alone in bed.  A warm, sweet aroma was drifting from the kitchen.  She smiled just a tiny bit before opening her eyes and pulling herself to her feet.  “Root?” She called sleepily.  “Did you make breakfast?”  This was an unusual occurrence in their apartment.  Normally Shaw woke first and managed to get in her morning workout before Root pulled herself out of bed.  

Root didn’t respond, and when Shaw entered their living room/kitchen area, she saw why.  On the counter, next to a plate stacked high with pancakes, was a little sticky note with Root’s handwriting.  

_Sorry to leave so early.  Relevant number in Paris.  I should be back in a few days.  Try not to have too much fun without me. <3_

Shaw rolled her eyes and tried to be annoyed at the fact that these were blueberry pancakes, when Root should know that she liked regular pancakes almost as well.  Root didn’t like blueberry pancakes at all.  That meant that she’d made them specifically for Shaw.  To be nice.  

Shaw scowled.  That was cute couple shit right there.  The kind of cute couple shit that John would do for Iris.  Or Harold for Grace.  And now Root was doing it for her.  But there was _no way_ Shaw was going to do it too.  Even if she wanted to (which she didn’t), coming from her it would probably feel fake and forced (which it likely would be) and Root deserved something sincere (which Shaw wasn’t sure she knew how to do).  

Her parents had gone on romantic dates together.

Shaw wasn’t sure she knew how to do  _romance_ at all, much less plan a romantic date.

John had taken Iris to her favorite restaurant.  

Shaw didn’t think she knew Root’s favorite restaurant.  

Harold had organized a fantastic scavenger hunt for Grace, culminating in a private night at a museum.  

That... might be interesting.  Shaw chewed a forkful of pancake thoughtfully.  

Maybe not a scavenger hunt exactly, she thought to herself.  Root would see right through that in an instant.  She’d probably laugh at Shaw for the attempt, tease her and never let her forget it.  But something else... Something that was right up Root’s alley...

Shaw ate the rest of her pancakes, deep in thought.  Then she grabbed her jacket and left the apartment.  She walked out onto the street and made her way to the nearest surveillance camera (she’d long since learned where the easiest places to gain the Machine’s attention were).  She made sure her phone was on, and the microphone at max power, then looked right into the camera.  

“Okay, I know you can hear me.  Look, I know that in your weird computer-y way you care about Root, and maybe even want her to be happy.  Well, in my own mixed up way, I do too.  And I want to do something special for her.  So you’re gonna help me.”  She waited for a second, and felt her phone vibrate.  

A text from an unknown number read, _Plan?_

Shaw smirked, “I’ve got a few thoughts.” She switched on her earpiece and set it to read her texts to her.  “But I’d be willing to listen to some ideas if you’ve got some.”  She gave the camera one last look and walked away through the mass of people crowding the sidewalk, “Let’s go take a walk.”

 

~~~

 

 

Shaw was typing away on her new computer when she heard the key turn in the lock of the door.  Root entered, carrying a bag of groceries that the Machine had no doubt told her would be needed (Shaw was never one for household management and several times before Root had returned home from a long trip to find the fridge empty of everything except beer and grenades).  “Honey I’m home,” she said sweetly, walking past Shaw and setting the bags down on the counter.  Then she walked over and leaned over the back of the couch to give Shaw a quick kiss, before her eyes fell on Shaw’s laptop. She frowned curiously, “That’s new.”

Shaw rolled her eyes and closed it, turning a little bit so that she was facing Root, “My old one froze up.”

“And you didn’t even let me try to fix it?” Root asked with a little pout.

“Like I would let you anywhere near a computer of mine,” Shaw muttered.

Root raised her eyebrows, “Really?  Something on there you wouldn’t want me to see?”

“You’ll never know,” Shaw told her firmly with a smirk.  “But I’ve got all this money Finch pays us burning a hole in my pocket.  So I figured I might as well buy a new computer.

“Pays _you_ ,” Root corrected, pushing herself away from the couch and walking back towards the groceries.  “You may work for Harold, but I work directly for Her,” she explained as she started putting away her purchases.  

“Yeah because She pays you so much,” Shaw called back.

“Sameen, the Machine saves people,” Root chided her.  

“And maybe _the Machine_ could help pay rent,” Shaw suggested, finally standing to her feet and helping Root with the groceries (just so Root didn’t put the apples in the wrong place or anything).  

Root chuckled a little, “You just admitted that you have more money than you know what to do with, and you’re asking me to pay rent?”

“It’s not that,” Shaw muttered.  “It’s just--Look, this isn’t just my place anymore.  It’s kind of yours too.  And you should be able to pay for that, if you want.”  She knew it didn’t make sense as soon as the words were out of her mouth.  She didn’t dare look up at Root, but she could tell that she’d frozen in the middle of restocking their cereal supply.    

After a moment of quiet, Root finally said, “I’ll talk to Her about getting that fixed.”  

Shaw did her best to ignore the wave of relief that washed through her when she realized she hadn’t screwed up.  She quickly tried to change the topic.  “Good because there’s this rocket launcher I’ve been looking into buying and-” Shaw finally turned to look at Root again and had to fight down a smirk.  Root wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying.  She was listening intently, but not to her.  To Her.  Shaw waited until Root snapped out of her daze, then asked “The Machine have something for you?”  

Root nodded, a dangerous smile lighting up her face.  “Even better Sameen,” she replied.  “She has something for _us_.  Go pack your bag, sweetie.  We’re going to rob a billionaire.”  

 


	2. Chapter 2

“So explain to me why I had to pack a bag if we’re staying in the city,” Shaw grumbled.  

“It felt very dramatic to say,” Root replied with a smile.  “Besides,” she continued, looking out the window at the street rolling past, “We both know that when you pack a bag, you’re not really thinking about overnight wear.  Did you grab those explosives She thought would be useful?”

Shaw nodded, her bag (which was admittedly did  _not_  have much overnight wear in it, despite being stuffed to the brim) was currently in the trunk of the limo that had been waiting for them outside of their apartment building.  It was a nice ride, she had to admit, a good stretch limo though she wondered if the Machine had hired the driver specifically for this pickup, or if his GPS had been hacked slightly.  She’d almost asked Root, then decided against it.  It was probably a mix of both, and honestly she didn’t care that much anyways.  “It’s probably a good idea to get that much C4 out of the house anyway,” she admitted.  

“You’re still not going to tell me where you got it?” Root asked, nudging Shaw’s shoulder a little.  

Shaw smirked, “The Machine’s not telling you?”

“She says you were off-camera,” Root muttered.  

Technically speaking, that was true.  Shaw  _had_  been off camera when she’d interrupted a black market deal and taken the explosives for herself.  But she’d only known where to find the C4 because the Machine had texted her the location and a time.  Apparently the plan that they’d been working on would require explosives, as well as Shaw’s new computer.  She knew it would just make Root suspicious if she told her that the Machine had helped her find it, so instead she just smirked smugly, “If I know something you and the Machine don’t, there’s no way I’m telling you.”

Root smiled to herself at that, “I suppose I should have expected that.”  Then she nodded, apparently having received more instructions, and reached down and opened the small fridge embedded in the seat opposite them, pulling out a bottle of champagne.  

Shaw watched curiously as Root opened the bottle, poured herself a glass, and drained it in one motion. “Root,” she said as Root refilled her glass. “It’s three in the afternoon.”

Root smiled while taking a smaller sip from the glass, letting the drink linger in her mouth before swallowing.  “I know, Sameen, normally you prefer stronger stuff this time of day,” she replied with a wink.  “But,” she twisted the glass in her hand suddenly, sending the rest of her drink spilling onto Shaw’s chest.  “We’ll have to work with what we’ve got.”

“What the  _hell_  Root?” Shaw snapped, jumping back far too late.  “This is my favorite jacket!”

Root wisely didn’t comment on the fact that Shaw had at least three more identical black leather jackets back at their apartment, and instead gave an apologetic smile.  “Sorry sweetie, we’ll get it dry cleaned for you.” She opened her purse and pulled out a bright pink lip gloss that shaw could smell from across the seat, “But right now we’ve got an image to sell.”  At her words, the limo slowed to a stop.  “Go ahead and grab your bag, sweetie,” Root said, pulling out a compact mirror and double checking her face.  

Shaw looked at her dubiously.  She’d never seen Root pay so much attention to her appearance (except, of course, the few times she’d stopped into Bloomingdale’s to check up on Shaw and get her makeup done).  “And what are you doing?”

“Getting into character,” Root said with a smirk, still adjusting her lipgloss.  “Don’t worry, I’ll be out in just a second.”  

Shaw rolled her eyes.  Really, she shouldn’t even be surprised by anything Root did these days.  She got out of the limo and grabbed her black duffel bag from the trunk.  Then she walked around to the sidewalk and was just about to knock on Root’s window and ask what was taking so long when Root opened her door and practically fell out of the limo, laughing giddily.  

Okay, that  _did_  surprise Shaw a bit.  

Root straightened herself and winked at Shaw.  “Don’t forget to play your part, Shaw,” she said, swaying slightly as she walked up to her.  

“And what  _exactly_  is my part?” Shaw asked, wondering if she really wanted to know the answer.  

Root wrapped both hands around Shaw’s arm, hanging onto Shaw far tighter than she really needed to.  “You’re my much more sober date,” she whispered conspiratorially.  “Now let’s go see what She can do about getting us a room.”

“A room?” Shaw repeated as Root pulled her across the sidewalk.  For the first time, she inspected their surroundings.  She hadn’t recognized the building when she’d first left the limo but now she realized that the Machine had brought them to the largest, most expensive hotel in the city, the Hightower.  This place was famous for their casino, their service, their hosting reputation, along with having an impressive security system that had never once been beaten.  

She smirked, of course the Machine had picked this place.  

Root clung almost painfully to Shaw’s arm as they walked through the massive glass doors into the lobby.  It was a beautiful building with sweeping ceilings and a fountain off to their left by the walkways that led to the restaurants.  To their right, a sign hung on the wall next to a large set of double doors, marking the entrance to the Hightower Casino.  

But Root paid these distractions no mind as she dragged Shaw straight to the concierge’s desk.  

The woman behind the desk watched them approach, her lips tight with disapproval.  But when it was clear they were really going to talk to her, she smiled coldly.  “Hello ladies,” she said with forced cheer.  “Welcome to the Hightower.  Is there anything I can help you with today?”

Shaw was pretty sure that the only thing this lady wanted to help them with was helping them find the door.  With her champagne-drenched jacket and Root’s combination of jeans and a casual blouse, they didn’t exactly fit the high profile standards of this place.  

But Root wasn’t the slightest bit phased.  Laughing and swaying, she released her hold on Shaw’s arm and instead leaned up against the desk, grinning drunkenly at the concierge, “Hi, we’ve got a room here under the name Thornhill.”

The woman eyed them doubtfully but turned to her computer.  After a few moments of typing she turned back to Root, “You’re Ernest Thornhill?”

Root smiled, “I’m his niece.”  She reached into her purse and pulled out a driver’s license (one of several ID cards for aliases that Shaw knew Root kept on her person at all times).  “I think there should be a note attached to the room saying I might be stopping by to use it.” On the word ‘use’ Root wrapped her arm around Shaw’s and squeezed tight.  

Shaw wondered how much of that was Root or her “character”.  Either way she wasn’t really going to argue.  

The concierge took the card doubtfully but apparently could find no wrong with it.  “Very well,” she said, pushing a button behind the desk.  She gestured to the row of elevator doors on the other side of the lobby, “An elevator will be down in a moment, and we’ll have someone bring in your luggage.”

“Thank you,” Root giggled, then turned her attention to Shaw.  “See sweetie?  I told you Uncle Thornhill would get us the best.”  Shaw looked at her, impressed as she always was with how devoted Root was to her aliases.  Then Root’s hands grabbed the front of her jacket and suddenly she was being pulled forward and her lips were on Root’s.

Root’s lips tasted like strawberry and her breath smelled of alcohol and suddenly Shaw was very eager to get up to that room.  

A few coughs from the concierge had them regretfully pulling apart.  “I’m sorry to  _interrupt_ , but it appears we’re having some sort of issue with our elevators.  But,” she added quickly, noting the furious glare Shaw was shooting at her.  “We have another elevator on the other side of the building, across the casino floor.  If you’ll just follow the red carpet through those doors, you can’t miss it.  And this keycard will allow you access to both the elevator, and your room.  Floor 48, room 221.”  She handed Root a blank keycard.

Root took it with another smile then grinned at Shaw, “You’ll need to help me across the floor, sweetie.  And you don’t want me hitting the ground.  At least,” she added with a wink.  “Not until we get to our room.”

 

 

~~~

 

“Shaw, we’ve got to walk a bit slower,” Root whispered to Shaw as they made their way through the casino floor.  

Grinding her teeth, Shaw forced her pace to a more casual stride.  It wasn’t her fault she’d been practically racing to the elevator.  Shaw was apparently playing the part of a sober date, and what sober date wouldn’t want to get their partner up to their room as quickly as possible?  But, she reminded herself, even if Root’s party girl act was turning her on, Root had a point.  Despite the fact at this moment, Shaw wanted nothing more than to go up to their room and get wasted in a hotel room until Root  _did_  fall to the floor (preferably with Shaw on top of her), they were on a mission.  A very important mission, Shaw reminded herself.  So her plans to pin Root to the floor (and probably several other surfaces) would have to wait.

Instead, she slowed her pace, allowing Root more time to glance around as they crossed the casino floor.  She was casing the place, of course she was.  Whatever the Machine’s plans were, they both needed to know this place well to have any chance of succeeding.  Shaw followed Root’s lead and started making several notes about the casino’s layout.  

Since it was still mid afternoon, the floor wasn’t very full.  Most of the people Shaw could see were elderly, here to waste away their retirement money.  Shaw could count at least seven security cameras from their position, and she was sure there were more around.  There were security guards dressed in grey uniforms walking around, keeping an eye on things.  Shaw watched as one of them left through a door marked staff only.  The door only opened after he swiped his keycard.  

All in all, it looked like a regular hotel casino.  Fancy, but nothing suspicious that Shaw could pick up on.  But wait...  _Was that guy checking Root out?_

He definitely was.  Younger guy, in a freshly pressed suit with a haircut that just screamed  _money_.   His eyes were glued on Root as she stumbled alongside Shaw on their way to the elevator.  Shaw tightened her grip on her bag, wanting nothing more than punch that leering look off his face.

Root noticed him, too.  But instead of being insulted or even surprised, she shot him a seductive smile and waved to him drunkenly before Shaw pulled her away and into the elevator.  

As soon as the doors slid closed, Root detached herself from Shaw’s arm and straightened up.  “Well that was fun,” she said, grinning.

“Yeah, loads,” Shaw muttered, glad that there were no windows in this thing.  “Get any good  _intel_?”

“Plenty,” Root replied, pulling a tissue out of her purse and wiping off her lip gloss.  “The Machine can’t see in here, closed camera loops.  But I’ve got an idea of where I can patch her in.  Plus, now we know for sure our mark is here.”

“Our mark?” Shaw repeated.  The Machine had been oddly silent about the man they were apparently going to rob.  

Root nodded, straightening her shirt that she’d wrinkled during her act, “Nicholas Harper, heir of the billion-dollar company,Hightower Industries.  He’s also very well-known with the ladies.”

“That goon who was mentally undressing you across the casino?” Shaw asked incredulously.  

“That’s the one,” Root said, somewhat distastefully.  “Apparently he has a thing for party girls, so She told me just how to make a good first impression.”

Shaw scowled, suddenly way less pleased with Root’s character choice, “I don’t like him.”

“I wasn’t expecting you to.”  Root smirked and wrapped her arm around Shaw’s again, only this time the action was calmer, more affectionate and less drunk, “But he’s actually in charge of this hotel right now.  A bit of a test run for his parents to see how he can handle direct management of their other branches.  But that means that he’s got a lot of important information about this place in his head.”

“And you’re gonna have to pick his brain?”  Shaw asked.

Root grinned, “Something like that.  Now come on,” she said as the elevator doors dinged open.  “Let’s go see what  _Uncle Thornhill_  gave us for a room.”  She tugged Root along playfully through the hall and smirked as she swiped their keycard through the lock of Room 221, but paused before opening the door.  “Unless you’d like me to get a bit more champange first?” She said suggestively, her hand toying with the neck of Shaw’s jacket.  

Shaw snapped.  “That’s it,” she growled, grabbing Root and pulling them both through the door.  She barely took a moment to drop her bag on the ground before she pushed Root up against the wall and kissed her furiously.  Root’s lip gloss was gone but Shaw could still taste just a hint of strawberry as their lips pressed together.  

Root pulled back for just a second, allowing for enough space between them for her to pull her shirt over her head.  “I was wondering how long you’d last,” she said, smirking.  

“You’re too much of a tease,” Shaw snarled into Root’s mouth as her hands eagerly explored newly exposed skin.  She brought her mouth down from Root’s lips, practically growling as she lightly bit her neck.  Root’s breathing hitched and Shaw smiled as her hands drifted down to Root’s waist.  She tugged at Root’s pants, hissing almost threateningly, “Oh I am going to-”

Someone knocked on the door.

Shaw muttered practically every combination of curse words she could think of while Root gently pushed her away and pulled her shirt back on.  Root answered the door while Shaw, still fuming, sat down at the small table that made up the “dining area” portion of their room.  After exchanging a few words with the man at the door, Root walked back in, carrying two large shopping bags that had been apparently sent up to them.  

“Our covers for tonight,” she explained, walking past Shaw to set the bags down on the large bed next to the window.  “She says we’re going to need to look a lot more flirty tonight than our current wardrobes would allow for.”

“Oh great,  _flirty_ ,” Shaw muttered, wondering at the Machine’s specific addition of new wardrobes.  Was that really necessary for what they were going to do?  Then again, Shaw had opted to leave most of the actual planning to the Machine, and it was a bit late to second guess that choice now.

Walking back to where Shaw was seated, Root stopped to pick up Shaw’s bag.  She set it down on the table and pulled out Shaw’s new laptop.  She sat down and opened it, looking almost apologetically at Shaw, “Sorry sweetie, but She says I your new toy is perfect for accessing the security system here.  Can you pull the TV away from the wall?  The fire alarm wires run parallel to the cable lines, I’m going to need access to them.”

Shaw rolled her eyes, and sighed “So I guess-”

“Later, Sweetie,” Root assured her, eyes glued to her screen.  “Trust me, I am  _very_  interested to hear exactly what you were planning to do.  But right now,” she pulled out her glasses case from Shaw’s bag (Shaw didn’t even realize she’d packed it, it was basic instinct to bring along Root’s backup glasses by this point), “We have a heist to plan.”

 

 

~~~

 

Shaw hadn’t been completely sure that this was it.  After all, the Machine hadn’t sent her any kind of heads up message like she’d thought.  After their initial talk about why and how Shaw wanted to do this, the Machine had privately directed Shaw though a few key tasks that She assured Shaw were important to their plan, like the black market deal and buying a new laptop.  Then, after Shaw had dropped off a small black velvet bag in a safety deposit vault, the Machine had said she’d done her part and that She would take care of the rest of the planning.  

So when Root had arrived with plans for a heist, one apparently taking place in New York, Shaw had wondered if this was the Machine’s form of forewarning.  It wasn’t until she was sitting at the table with Root, watching how Root lit up at the challenge of hacking into the security systems, how she positively glowed when the Machine downloaded the blueprints right to their computer, and how easily Root switched between listening to the Machine and making her own decisions, that she knew.  

Root was in her element.  She was thriving on this mission, it was  _perfect_  for her.

Just like Shaw had wanted.  

“I would be surprised that this dress fits so well,” Shaw muttered, eyeing herself in the full length mirror on the wall.  She always preferred a black dress when she had to go formal for a cover, but this dress was almost blood red, not exactly her first choice of color.  Still it was a sexy dress, and she knew she looked good in it.  The heels were tall, but definitely manageable.  The earrings were a nice touch, but not too much.  Overall, the entire ensemble she was wearing was perfect for a hot date look, and also completely mission-ready.  “But this is the Machine, so of  _course_  it fits perfectly.”

Behind her, Root chuckled, “You know Her so well.  And she knows you, too.”  

Shaw turned around.  Root was facing her, sitting cross-legged on the bed.  Her own dress was a light blue, covered with sequins that caught the light, sparkling and flickering even while she was barely moving.  She’d pulled her hair back into a playful ponytail, and right now she was adjusting her makeup, adding glitter eyeliner to complete the “party girl” look she would be playing.  Shaw had never really been into girls like that, but she couldn’t deny that Root looked extremely hot in that tight dress.

“I’m glad She picked that dress, though.”  Root didn’t look up at Shaw as she added, “I’ve always wanted to see you in red.”

Shaw smirked a bit.  She’d wondered why the Machine had opted for something other than her usual black look.  “Oh really?”  She sat down next to Root on the bed, her mere presence forcing Root’s attention away from her makeup.  “Is the Machine helping you play out your fantasies now?”

The eyeliner dropped from Root’s limp hand.  Her breathing came a little faster as Shaw began kissing her neck, “If she only knew  _half_  of my fantasies...” She murmured, as Shaw’s hand slid up her thigh.  “She’d never let us do this again.  She’d probably classify us as high risk dangers to each other.”

Oh, Shaw liked the sound of that.  She brought her lips up to Root’s kissing forcefully and pushing the taller woman down onto the bed.  Shaw wasn’t sure how long they stayed like that, Root lying under her, moaning softly every time Shaw’s lips met hers.  Time always seemed to stop when they got like this.  Her hands were reaching to pull up the hem of Root’s dress when suddenly Root froze beneath her, then she sighed, “Right.”  She gently pushed Shaw up and off of her, “She says it’s time to move.”

“Of course She does,” Shaw muttered, wishing there was a camera she could glare at.  She wondered for just a second if, even after all the planning they went through, the Machine was just using this plan of theirs to mess with her.  If that was the case, then the Machine was a worse tease than Root.  

Root stood and went into the bathroom to touch up her makeup.  “You know where you’re going, right?” She asked.

Shaw rolled her eyes, “I’ve got a date with the security guard.”  Literally.  It was the guard’s day off, but the Machine knew that he kept all his work keys with his house keys, in his pocket.  The Machine had set Shaw up with him using a dating app.  Apparently Shaw had been very impressed to learn that he worked at the Hightower, so he’d offered to take her to the restaurant there (that normally required reservations at least a month in advance).  Her date was in fifteen minutes, she was going to meet him in the lobby.  Shaw joined Root in the bathroom, making sure her own makeup looked presentable.  After all, it wouldn’t do to show up to her date looking like she’d just made out with her girlfriend.  She looked over at Root, who was applying another layer of Strawberry lipgloss, “Are you sure you know what  _you’re_  doing?”

Root closed her lip gloss with a  _snap_  and flashed a flirtatious smirk , “Trust me, Nick is going to be putty in my hand.”  She replaced her lip gloss in her hand bag, pulling out a long gold chain.  Shaw stiffened as Root reached around her and clasped the necklace behind her neck.  Root trailed her finger along the chain, down to the golden heart that rested on her chest.  She leaned forward and whispered, “Try not to get too jealous.”  Then she turned and walked to the door, “Don’t forget, Grant’s expecting you in ten minutes.”  

 

 

~~~

 

Shaw was positive that Grant had spent the time leading up to their “date” reading up on exactly how a guy should act when first meeting a girl in person.  He smiled when he greeted her, offered her his arm to lead her to the restaurant, kept great eye contact, made jokes, and was sure to ask her all about herself.  

She hated him.  

Well maybe not hate.  She  _disliked_  Grant, definitely.  But she naturally disliked basically everyone.  What Shaw hated was this situation.  His questions, his awkward flirting, his attempts to endear himself to her, along with her own forced laughter and smiles (playing along to this social game because she knew she had to) just reminded her of how easy this would be if it were Root sitting across from her, rather than this cute but somewhat desperate security guard.  At least with Root, there would be no false pretences of why they would be there together.  

Still, he was clearly nervous, and Shaw was quick to suggest alcohol as a way to calm his nerves.  It  took her a little over half an hour to get Grant tipsy enough that she could slip his keys out of his pocket.  And when their “date” had lasted almost an hour, he was so drunk that she convinced him that they’d been here  _much_  longer than that, and insisted that she call a cab to pick him up and take him home.  “I don’t want that cute face getting in trouble with the cops,” she told him with a smile that was more grimace.  

“Well there’s room in a cab for two,” Grant slurred suggestively.  

Shaw was positive he was too wasted to notice how disgustedly she shook her head.  “No,  uh, I’ve got some other thing I want to do while I’m uptown,” she said quickly.

“Aw,” Grant’s entire body seemed to sag with disappointment.  “Well I guess I’ll call you then, yeah?”

“Yeah, sure,” Shaw said, knowing he didn’t really have her phone number.  She pointed him towards the doors of the hotel, “Look your cab’s here.  Go on home and get some sleep, then you can call me.”

He nodded eagerly, “Yeah, yeah I’ll do that.  Goodnight, thanks for a great date, Sammy.”  He stumbled out through the door.  

“It’s  _Sameen_ ,” Shaw muttered through clenched teeth as she watched him go.  Then she shook herself, she still had a mission tonight, and right now she needed to help Root.  So she turned on her heel and headed down to the casino floor.  

The moment the doors opened, she was met with shouts and cheers and giggles.  A sizeable crowd had gathered around one of the blackjack tables, and in the center of it was a woman in a light blue sparkly dress with a curly brown ponytail.  As Shaw walked past the table, she watched Root pull another stack of chips towards herself.  The Machine couldn’t see inside the casino yet (they hadn’t had access to the camera system from their room), but Root was good enough with numbers and probability that she could accumulate a pretty large pile of winnings by the time Shaw patched Her into the system.  

At least, that was the plan.  

But even Root could lose to the House if Shaw wasn’t fast enough.  She made her way across the floor, and after a quick glance around to make sure no one was watching, she swiped Grant’s ID badge and slipped into the back halls of the Hightower.

Root had spent a good portion of their planning time going over the blueprints of the building  and she’d made sure that Shaw knew exactly where to go to find the section of wall that would provide easiest access to the security camera feeds.  This particular section of the wall happened to be in the janitor’s closet.  

Shaw shut the door behind her and emptied her purse on the nearest shelf.  She used her mini drill to cut through the wall, then she stripped the wires Root had told her would be in there.  She took the feed-hijacking chip (Root had spent a long time explaining how complex this small chip was and how impressed she was that Shaw had had one in her bag, and Shaw had nodded and danced around explaining that she’d gotten it because the Machine had told her where to find it) and clipped it onto the wires.  She turned on her earpiece.  “You getting this?” She asked the Machine.  

The Machine didn’t say anything (Shaw knew She only talked to Root unless something was really wrong) but her phone vibrated with a text saying that She was getting the feeds and Shaw should move on to the next step of the plan.  

“Thank you, Sameen,” Root’s voice said in her ear.  They were on comms now, as they’d need to coordinate their timing down to the second for the rest of the plan.  So as Shaw stepped into the staff elevator and rode it up to the 48th floor, she listened to Root playing Blackjack, now with the Machine’s help.  Her bets grew larger and more confident with each win.  Cheers rose around throughout the crowd when she announced she was buying drinks for everyone here.  

“Um, excuse me,” A guy was talking to Root now, and Shaw had one guess of who that would be.  She fought down a scowl as she swiped the keycard to her and Root’s room, listening to Nicholas Harper talk to Root.  “I’ve been trying to get to get your attention, Miss-?”

“Nova,” Root replied, and Shaw could swear she  _heard_  her wink.  “And you’ll have to scoot around a bit, handsome.  I’m deaf in my right ear.”  

“How unfortunate,” Nicholas commented smoothly.  His voice faded for a second and Shaw guessed he was stepping to Root’s good side.  “That defect aside, I have to say you’re an incredibly lucky woman.”

Shaw dropped the bag she was picking up (thank god C4 is a stable explosive).   _Defect?_ Root wasn’t some defective experiment.  She was a person, and there was  _nothing_  wrong with her.  

But Root just giggled and lowered her voice slightly, “You know I think I might just get a bit luckier tonight.”  

“I might be able to help you with that.”

Shaw forced herself to ignore the flirtatious whispers passing between Root and Nicholas.  She slung the bag over her shoulder and went back out to the staff elevator.  Again, she used Grant’s keys to gain access to the 64th floor.  This floor though housed the ballrooms that guests could rent out to host receptions and parties and charity events and the like.  Shaw looked around and pulled out her phone.  “Alright, what now?”

Root had been told almost all of the plan, but they’d both been surprised when the Machine had told her that She would tell Shaw where to put the explosives.  Root had been confused and slightly hurt until the Machine had explained that She couldn’t know exactly where to put them until She had eyes inside.  But Shaw wondered if maybe this was a way to make sure the plan succeeded, but still gave Root a few surprises along the way.  

“ _Head to ballroom 3B,_ ” Shaw read the text, and at the same time it was read to her via her earpiece.  

Shaw started walking, but she hesitated for a second, “Can Root hear us?”

“ _No._ ”

“But you’ll tell me if she’s in trouble?”

“ _Yes._ ”

Shaw nodded, that was good enough for her, and entered the ballroom.  It was a magnificent room, with marble flooring and pillars supporting the ceiling.  Directly across from the door was a massive floor to ceiling window that looked down on New York City.  “So what am I looking for?” She asked.  “Are we finally gonna use these explosives?”  As much as she’d enjoyed working with the Machine behind Root’s back, Shaw was just as curious as Root about the purpose of the C4.

“ _Set one set of charges around the largest window._ ”

Shaw smirked, “If you say so.  And where are the other charges going?”

“ _Take the elevator up one floor._ ”

 

 

~~~

 

Root allowed herself to giggle drunkenly as she and Nicholas stepped out of the elevator.  His hand was wrapped around her waist and he was holding her too close to him, but she allowed him to lead her through the 65th floor.  “This is where we keep our treasures,” he said proudly, waving his free hand around them.  

These certainly were treasures.  Root knew from the plans that She had sent her that this floor was the museum level of the building, where art exhibits and famous sculptures were shown proudly before the New York elite.  Beautiful paintings lined the walls and Root couldn’t help but gasp as she looked around, “This is beautiful.”

“I told you they were treasures,” Nicholas said, tapping her lightly on the nose.  He was taller than her by a few inches, even with her heels.  “And I thought you’d fit right in with the rest of them.”

She giggled again and ducked her head down so he’d think she was blushing.  She wasn’t, of course, that line was cheap and overused.  But it was better to let him think that it had worked.  Instead she playfully pried herself from his grip and hurried around the corner, making sure to keep a sway in her step.  The Machine had anonymously contacted the bartender to make sure that all of her drinks had been nothing but water, but as far as Nicholas knew, she’d had several vodka tonics in the last few hours. Men were so much easier to manipulate when they thought she was drunk.  He laughed and followed her.

Root stopped exactly where she was told, in front of a small pedestal with a velvet bag placed on top of it.  

 _He’s on your right side._   The Machine’s words came just before Nicholas wrapped his arm around her again, giving her just enough time to suppress the surprised jump she would have no doubt done had she had no warning he was approaching her.  She frowned and pulled herself away from him, walking easily to his other side, facing her good ear towards him.  This wasn’t the first time he’d ignored her hearing, despite her few attempts to remind her.  If anything he’d just brushed it off as “an unfortunate disability” and moved on to calling her pretty and lucky.  

She wondered what it’d be like to have a date like this with Shaw.  For one thing, she’d never have to worry about  _Shaw_  accidentally talking to her bad ear.  Root had never said how much her girlfriend’s efforts to stay on her left meant to her, but she thought maybe Shaw knew anyway, and Root loved her for that.  

Nicholas’s hand wrapping around her waist yet again drew her attention quickly back to the present.  She gestured towards the bag, “What’s this one?”

Nicholas shrugged, “I don’t know.  An anonymous donor sent it to us a few days ago, said we can’t put it on display until next week.  So it’s staying in the bag until then, as per Mr. Thornhill’s instructions.”

Root’s head snapped around, “Thornhill?”

“Sir!”  One of the hotel’s guards came running into towards them, out of breath and looking panicked.  “Sir!  Grant Thomas just called in, asking if he left his keys at the restaurant after his date tonight!”

With an exasperated sigh, Nicholas pulled his hand away from Root and faced his employee, “So?”

 _Take it now,_  the Machine whispered to her.  

Root took advantage of his distraction to grab the small velvet bag and stash it in her purse.  

“So I just checked the security logs to see if anyone had reported a set of keys,” the guard explained.  “And his key’s been used four times throughout the building since he left.”  

Nicholas froze, then his face flushed a dark red, “GET EVERYONE ON ALERT!  I WANT THE COPS HERE NOW!  IF WE’VE GOT SOMEONE SNOOPING WHERE THEY’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE I WANT THEM FOUND  _NOW_!”  The guard practically tripped over himself, shouting commands into his comms as he raced away.

Then Nicholas turned back to Root, trying to calm down.  “Sorry about this, dear.  But I think we may have to postpone our... partying...” His eyes flicked to the empty pedestal behind her, and saw it empty.  Fury clouded his eyes and he took a threatening step towards her, “You thieving bitch.”

Root’s hand reached into her purse but before she could do anything, the Machine told her,  _Duck_.  

Instantly Root spun, covering covering her ears with her hands and shielding her face as best as she could.  An explosion ripped through the air a few yards down from where she and Nicholas were standing, knocking them both to the ground, sending chunks of wall flying at the paintings on the walls, shattering priceless sculptures.

A figure stepped through of the still smoking hole in the wall, and Root looked up as she heard Shaw’s voice, deadly and threatening.  “You really wanna watch what you call my girlfriend,” she snarled.  

Nicholas looked between them, “Wha-?”

Shaw looked like she was ready to punch him in the face, but Root beat her to it, pulling her taser out of her bag.  She pointed it at Nicholas and frowned, “I was wondering if I’d feel bad about this, but honestly  _dear_ , you deserve it.”  Wires shot out at him and his body contorted as too many volts passed through him, until he blacked out.  

Shaw nudged his still body with her shoe, then smirked at Root, “Okay, that was  _really_  hot.”

“You’re one to talk,” Root said, putting her taser away and making sure she still had the black bag in her purse.  Then she readjusted her ponytail and winked at her girlfriend, “Have you  _seen_  yourself in that dress?  One look at you walking through smoke had me weak in the knees.”  

“I’m sure you use that line on all the girls with explosives you meet,” Shaw smirked, handing Root her phone.   

“Only the really cute ones.”  Root took it and opened a specific program she’d written a few hours ago.  It had taken all of the processing power of Shaw’s new computer to get into the Hightower’s security system, but Root had eventually been able to patch the phone into the network.  “We can just cancel that call to the police,” she said casually, typing a few quick commands.  “And those security cameras should probably go down now too.  Don’t want to give them more eyes than we’ve got.”  Then she glanced at the wall, smirking at the result of Shaw’s handiwork, “But we should probably call the firemen.  Just to make sure you didn’t do any lasting damage.”

“Wouldn’t the Machine tell you if I did?”  Shaw asked curiously.  

“She would,” Root acknowledged, putting the phone away.  “But you see the security staff in this building are still looking for an intruder, and you could hear that explosion through most of the building.  And there’s no distraction quite like,” she walked across the room to a red handle placed in the wall.  “A fire alarm,” she pulled the lever down.

Instantly, lights began to flash, the siren started blaring, and sprinklers sent water flying everywhere.  She could hear muffled screams of shock and surprise from the floors around them and found herself laughing.  It was chaos, panic, terror, and there was no need for it.  But she’d caused it all with the simple action of pulling a handle.  Who knows, maybe this would be a wakeup call for someone in the building.  Shock them back into their lives.

“So,” Root said sweetly, shooting Shaw her most seductive smile.  “You wanna get out of here?”

Shaw rolled her eyes, but then froze, listening.  She grabbed Root’s hand suddenly.  “I hear guards,” she muttered.  “Come on.”

Root couldn’t stop her smile as Shaw pulled her through the hole in the wall and towards the stairs.  The elevators were, of course, not running while the fire alarm was set off, so the stairs were their only option.  Root wasn’t sure they could make it down 65 flights of stairs without being caught though.

“I hope you two sorted out our exit plan,” she said, trying not to sound disappointed that the Machine still hadn’t told her how they were leaving.  

“Oh we did,” Shaw said with a wicked grin, kicking open the door to the 64th floor.  

“They’re here!” Root heard someone shout from the stairwell as the door closed behind them.  “Two suspects!  Female!  On the 64th floor!  Everyone converge there!”

“Um, Shaw?” Root said, unnerved by how quiet the Machine was being.  For once, there was no gentle reassurance, no backup plans, no instructions.  

Shaw stopped, her free hand on the door to ballroom 3B.  If Root didn’t know better she’d say Shaw looked almost... nervous, “Trust me.”

Root smiled, and squeezed Shaw’s hand lightly, “Always.”  

The door from the stairs burst open, and a dozen armed men poured out.  “FREEZE!” One of them shouted.

“Run!”  Shaw shouted, pushing open the door and pulling Root into the ballroom.  

Root ran.  Into a room with no other doors or exits.  But she didn’t stop running, heading straight for the window in front of her.  Then she saw the lights on the wall around the window and she looked over at Shaw, who was holding a detonation trigger in her hand.  “I love you,” Root said, right before Shaw pressed the red button on the trigger, and the window in front of them exploded.  

Their pursuers slammed open the door to the ballroom, just in time to hear the sound of a helicopter approaching.  It flew right up to the destroyed window, turning so the open side was right in front of them.

Root broke into a full sprint.  Shaw, still hanging tight to her hand, did the same.  Together they lept out of the window.  Root couldn’t help but laugh as they soared through the air and tumbled into the helicopter.  She knew she was still grinning as they started flying away, and she looked up to find herself face to face with Shaw.  

Shaw was smiling.  

Root cocked her head, “What?”

“Marry me.”

Root laughed and pulled herself to her feet.  She closed the door of the helicopter, looking down to see bright flashing lights approaching the Hightower.  “Looks like the firemen are arriving.”

“Root.”

“That’s good, they’ll need to repair those holes.”

“Root.”

Root turned around.  Shaw was in the exact same spot, Root’s purse in her hand, looking up at Root intently.  “You don’t have to joke about that too, Sameen,” Root told her, not quite meeting Shaw’s eyes, not daring to get her hopes up.

“I’m not.”  Shaw reached into Root’s purse, taking out the small velvet bag.  She opened it up, pulled out a small black box, and adjusted her position so she was kneeling.  “Root,” She flipped the top open, revealing two silver rings settled in white satin.  One was a simple silver band, the other an elegant ring with several small diamonds embedded in a wave pattern that wrapped around a larger diamond.  “Will you marry me?”

Root could feel her heart stop.  Everything in reality faded away until the only thing that remained was Shaw, right in front of her.  She’d never expected this.  And if those ring were in that bag, that meant...

“You planned this?” She asked breathlessly.

Shaw gave a sheepish grin and nodded, “With plenty of help, yeah.”

“Help?” Root repeated weakly.  “Help from who-?” And then it clicked.  “ _The Machine?_   She helped you organize all of this?”

Again, Shaw nodded.  “She organized most of it.  I wasn’t even sure that this was when She was planning it until we’d started.  She wanted you to be happy.  And I do too.  I know I don’t do all this,” she gestured vaguely at herself.  “Very well.  But... you’re important to me.  So,” she held the ring box up again.  “What do you say?”

“What do I say?” Root repeated, still disbelieving.  “I say... yes!  Of course I’ll marry you!”  

Shaw smiled that awkward flustered smile of hers.  “Then I think,” she said, standing up.  “That I get to do this.”  And she took the diamond-studded ring from the box and gently placed it on Root’s finger.  

Root took the box from her, and took the silver band.  She hesitated, twirling it between her fingers.  “You’re not just doing this for me, are you?” She asked.  “You want this too?”

“Root,” Shaw said, looking right in Root’s eyes.  “You’re the only person who’s ever felt like home to me.  And I want that for the rest of my life.”  

Blushing, Root nodded, “Alright then.”  And she slid Shaw’s ring along her finger.  

Grinning and looking quite proud of herself, Shaw pulled Root towards her for a kiss.  

“Well congrats to you both!”  Root jumped back at the sound of the voice coming from the pilot’s chair.  “I always knew you two kids would end up together.  Now where am I going?”

Root couldn’t help but chuckle at the furious look on Shaw’s face.  “Calm down, Sameen,” she said quietly, pushing Shaw into a seat and sitting down beside her, before addressing their pilot.  “Hello Lionel.  Good to see you.”

“Yeah yeah,” Fusco muttered.  “You know, when Glasses offered to pay for flight lessons, I thought you people were trying to apologize for all the shit you’ve put me through, not signing me up for helping you with  _more crime_.”  

“Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy that,” Root said with a grin.

“Oh believe me,” he said.  “You two running and jumping into this thing was one of the hottest things I’ve seen in my life.  But really, where am I going?”

“I’d say back where you got it,” Root told him.  “This is Harold’s right?  You can just take it back to the airstrip he bought.  We’ll hire a cab to take us back to our place.”  

“Right,” Fusco rolled his eyes.  “So a wedding, huh?  This was all so you could propose to your girl, Shaw?”

“It was the only way I could think of,” Shaw muttered.  “It had to be perfect.”

Root smiled, holding right to Shaw’s hand, “You know, any way you asked me would have been perfect.  But,” she thought about the fantastic thrill of tonight’s mission and smiled, “This was pretty good.”

“You definitely beat Reese,” Fusco agreed loudly.  “And speaking of that, are you gonna ask him to be your best man, Shaw?”

Root laughed, “I’m pretty sure that position’s already been taken.”

Shaw looked at her curiously, “Really?”

“Really,” Root said firmly.  “And just think how cute Bear’s going to look in a little suit jacket and bowtie.”  

Shaw looked like she was about to argue, then shrugged, conceding the point.  

In front of them, Fusco shook his head, “You two are probably the strangest couple I’ve ever seen.”

Root shrugged, and scooted a little closer to Shaw, just so their shoulders were touching.  Maybe they were strange.  But they had each other.  And at the end of the day, Root decided, Shaw was all she’d ever need.  


End file.
